Men Do Make Passes At Girls With Big Asses

What was Wisconsin Republican Representative  Jim Sensenbrenner thinking about when he apparently dissed Michelle Obama's efforts toward promoting good nutrition in our public schools by ranting into his cell phone at a church auction that "she lectures us on eating right while she has a large posterior herself.”?

Jim, you gotta problem with big booty girls?

Dear Santa; please find me a picture of Rep. Sensenbrenner caught in the action with a big old ass; black, white, male, female, I don't care, sitting right smack on his face. I know there must be one out there somewhere.
Let me tell you, the ass is where its at. That is the only part of my body I even bother to exercise for. I start looking flat in the ass and I'm downing cheeseburgers and doing donkey kicks. I like mine to jut out there for the world to admire.

Or was this some sort of jab at the Democratic Party?

Look at that that big round ass. Just hiked up there all proud and shit. Makes me glad to be a big ass American.

Rep. Sensenbrenner, you too have some junk in your trunk. So don't be pointing chicken fingers.

Husband For Sale or Lease/Purchase

I thought as a good wife the least I could do is start marketing my husband, or the new term "Wasband" because he is a pretty good deal.

Most people assume you end a marriage because one of the partners is defective in some way. I can't speak for me, as I am a work in progress, but he is just fine. Sometimes it just doesn't work out and I came to a point where I realized our relationship had long fizzled out and that we were just buddies. Some folks can settle for that, but I never settle. So I could continue to make us both miserable, or go seek my life bliss somewhere else. Not necessarily a man or relationship, just maybe finish goals that I set long ago and never actualized.

So, I have a nice husband up for grabs.

Let me list some of his ammenities and attributes:

• He's a hard working man that served his country most of his adult life. He works as a DoD contractor now at Moody AFB.
• He can fix anything of a mechanical, electronic sort.
• He's tidy and can cook sort of.
• He comes with a great insurance package, including vision and dental.
• He's attractive. Yes, he has miles on him, but who doesn't. He's got lots more miles to go.
• His kids are grown and he is neutered.
• He has a new motorcycle and likes to ride it.
• All of his parts still work (you know what I'm saying).
• He won't push his parts on you with any disregard for your feelings.
• He doesn't stay out all night drinking and lose track of time.
• You will never be a hunting/fishing/football widow.
• He has all of his teeth (it's South Georgia for God's sake therefore a valid concern).

I haven't decided on an asking price yet, but I'm willing to do a lease purchase to the best qualified candidate. You need to:

• Preferably be brunette.
• Have a weight and height that are proportionate. He likes a woman with curves so you don't have to be a stick figure.
• Be able to make sausage and biscuits at least once a month. His blood pressure is a little high, so don't let him sneak snacks. He hides them in his car, so make sure you sweep the car for the stash weekly.
• Drive the speed limit and obey traffic laws. He is very hung up on that, but considering my driving record its understandable. In fact, please submit a MVR with your application.
• Shove him out of his comfort zone often.
• Be willing to empty the cat box. Since I've gone, the duty or doody has become his least favorite chore. Its not the highlight of his day by any means.

Other than that you two can work out any other particulars. I'll be working on an application package this week, so stay posted. Please email all inquiries to me at thejuvedermdelinquent@yahoo.com. Include a recent picture and brief biography, resume, and marital expectations.

P.S. That is not a picture of him above, but a stock photo I found online. Serious applicants will receive a picture when they have completed the application.

Good Luck!

I'm Not A Cliche, I'm uNiQue.

It's true. One day after many years of what is referred to as a "low stress, low satisfaction" marriage, I finally chose to leave and go begin at again at mid-life. If you are thinking this is the same plotline as about a gazillion Lifetime Movie channel sob stories featuring strong and courageous middle aged women transforming their lives with grace, dignity, and age appropriate hair and you enjoy that sort of shit, then you should probably exit now. Thank you for stopping by.

A little about me:...well, fuck it, its all about me since its a blog.

I'm emotionally immature and revel in it. I am totally "in touch" with my "inner child". It got a tramp stamp at 44 (expired, but still can be used if the lights are low enough), a nose ring at 45, and  nipple rings at 46. Those are actually useful. If I run a string through them and tie them around my neck I have an instant breast lift.

I listen to hard core rap music. If you are in traffic and the car with the middle aged woman next to you is vibrating, that's me. The bass is pumping, the station wagon humping, old bitch be jumping, and most importantly, don't forget to spay and neuter your pets (read my tag.)


I've never done anything with grace, dignity, or tact. In fact, I think tact kills. Not stress, poor diet, or lifestyle. I think all the pressure of politically correct speaking and worrying about damaging someone else's self esteem or feelings if one should say something even slightly provocative is what causes people to bottle up what they are really thinking. All those bottled up thoughts expand, which causes cellulite and middle aged spread. Then you get stressed because your clothes are too tight. So you buy Spanx to compress everything. That in turn causes your blood pressure to rise, gives you constipation and varicose veins from all that mental and physical constraint, you walk around looking very tense, and then you die. You don't believe me? Look at Hillary Clinton.

That's a Spanx face. She's probably had them on at least eighteen hours, judging by the tendons protruding from her neck. I never want to hear men complain about ties until they spend a day in spanx and an underwire bra.


As the most tactful woman that every came from my family, I am proud to say we live really long lives. We outlive husbands, and everyone else lucky enough to be around us. Or maybe they just fake their death, move to an undisclosed location, and get new identities. But the point is that we set them free by telling them the truth or however that adage actually goes. And they should be grateful.


As for dignity, fuck it. A hundred years from now no one is going to remember me unless I do something so mind boggling bat shit crazy that my former home becomes a tourist attraction, and I become a face on a tee-shirt worn by disaffected senior citizens everywhere.


So I packed my copy of "On The Road", "Catcher in the Rye", and "Feng Shui for Wealth and Success" and moved to downtown Gainesville so that I could attend massage school and get in touch with my inner unemployed adult by living amound unemployed college kids.

To go with my new life, one must have new hair. So I got out my huge sewing shears and x-acto blades and gave myself this really cool shaggy, anime sort of hair. And dyed it jet black. I was going for that so cool Suicide Girl look. So far no one has told me I look like Kris Kardashian or (gasp) even worse, an aging Adam Lambert. I found some ripped old jeans and a few .25 cent t-shirts featuring a rasta guy smoking a huge blunt. I bought scarves that match nothing to top it all off with.

I decorated my very first apartment as a single woman. No boyfriend, husband, children, roommates. I can dance around naked, use the bathroom with the door open, fart as loud as I want, sing along with my favorite songs ( I have the vocal range of a wounded wildebeest), and only have to clean up after myself. It's heaven in a one bedroom.

I know what freedom tastes like now and its the bomb. It's a chocolate cupcake, with raspberry filling, topped with cream cheese frosting, and sprinkled with coconut from Sarkara Sweets bakery. They're not cupcakes, they are some undiscovered form of sugar crack.

Forget about middle aged communities and retreats. Grab your backpack and run away. Let your kids worry where you are at night. See if they will answer the phone if you call in the middle of the night for money or to get bailed out of jail. Embrace freedom!